


Groupies Wanna Get Fucked

by abadeerly



Series: SMUT [6]
Category: Adventure Time
Genre: AU, Degradation, F/F, Groupies, Praise, Shameless Smut, Smut, Verbal Degrading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-11-27 04:14:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20942105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abadeerly/pseuds/abadeerly
Summary: Bonnibel's NOT a groupie. Except, she is because this is smut. Enjoy! :)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly this first chapter very vaguely could've gone noncon for a hot second before consent was asked for. Consent is important! Stay safe!!

Bonnibel certainly wasn’t nervous. She’d been backstage for plenty of gigs before in her entire twenty years of living. However, her stomach was definitely being devoured by the anticipation that came with waiting in the hair and make up room of the lead singer who’s band she’d loved since she was sixteen. She wasn’t even there to cause any trouble, nor was she there to get any gossip that her friends had begged and begged her for, Bonnibel was just there to greet the singer and politely ask for an autograph. Besides, Marceline Abadeer was known for being nice to her fans. It wasn’t as if she’d get thrown out and blacklisted from any future shows.

The room was small and cluttered with what Bonnibel assumed were Marceline’s belongings; the famous leather jacket she often wore out and about was draped over the chair in front of the vanity table, and a few other famed items that the singer had been seen with were strewn about across the other tables. She sucked in a breath when the last song played out and took a step forward nearer to the middle of the room, waiting for Marceline to enter wearing that gorgeous smile of hers and leather pants that left nothing to the imagination. 

The door handle turned downwards, staying like that as the tail end of a muffled conversation was finished with, and then in walked the most gorgeous girl Bonnibel had ever had the privilege of seeing more than a dozen times. Marceline strode in with a smile and wave thrown over her shoulder at one of the sound guys, and then green eyes directed their gaze to Bonnibel and there was a furrow in her brow.

“Uhm, I promise I’m not a stalker,” Bonnibel muttered out, watching timidly as the older (by two years) woman strode over to the aforementioned vanity table, eyes still trained on her with a gentle frown on her face. It earned her a little chuckle though and Bonnibel’s heart sighed at the noise. “I just, uh, have something I’d like you to sign. I’ve been holding onto this for years and I’ve never been able to book a meet and greet or catch you after shows to ask.”

“Sure you’re not a stalker?” Marceline asked, voice teasing and calming Bonnibel’s insecurities away. Green eyes continued to stare at her still as Bonnibel rummaged around in her bag, eventually pulling out the bands first ever album and offering out between them. The case had certainly seen better days, as did the little booklet with the lyrics inside, but Bonnibel had always treasured their first album despite the fact that her friends had managed to sell theirs online for a hefty sum. “Oh,” Marceline observed, only taking her eyes off of Bonnibel to glance at the album. “You’re an older fan, aye?”

Bonnibel nodded. “I found you on youtube when I was sixteen and I’ve been in love with you and your band ever since,” She explained breathlessly. Marceline smirked, bending over to pick up her bag off of the chair. “You’ve been the soundtrack to my adolescence.” She added, wistfully.

From the bag Marceline withdrew a pen and turned back to Bonnibel with another smirk, the smudged eyeliner and messy hair just adding to the sheer amount of sex appeal she oozed. “That’s cute.” She said, reaching out to take the album gingerly from Bonnibel. “Some of the new fans haven’t even heard this old thing.” Marceline mused as she signed the front of the album. “Hell, I’m surprised we even have fans.”

“I’m not,” Bonnibel said around a smile. “Even when you were youtube exclusive I could picture you on a stage. You have such a dominant presence about you.”

The smirk on Marceline’s face flickered upwards a little bit as she finished her signature. Bonnibel mentally noted that she had also added a little message for her but couldn’t quite read it due to the angle Marceline was holding it. “Dominant, huh?” Marceline asked a little cockily, tossing the pen back into her bag and using her now free hand to swipe back the damp mane of hair on her head. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you were a groupie.”

“I mean- Your __stage __presence. You-,”Bonnibel was more than aware that she was probably flushed red with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean-,”

“Relax, cutie,” Marceline interrupted her with a airy laugh, still keeping hold on Bonnibel’s prized album. The full body blush only worsened at the pet name. “Here,” Marceline moved away from the desk to pull the chair out and gestured to it with the album. “Sit down and tell me about yourself, groupie.”

Bonnibel pouted. “I’m not a groupie.” She insisted, though she could definitely see how Marceline would think that considering Bonnibel was waiting for her backstage with nothing but her dimples and an album for her to sign. “And shouldn’t you be leaving? You have a show in England in two days.”

Marceline rolled her eyes. “Sit.” She laughed once more, nodding at the seat. Bonnibel did as she was told with very little resistance from her gut instinct. “I have plenty of time to get outta here, so what’s your name, cutie?”

“Bonnie,”

“Okay, Bonnie,” Marceline muttered, stalking around to the front of the chair. Bonnibel shivered as her name left Marceline’s lips. “How old are you? Eighteen? Eleven?”

Bonnibel snorted despite herself, blush raging when Marceline’s smirk slanted higher. “Twenty.”

An eyebrow perked up as Marceline leant against one of the other tables, crossing her arms over her chest. “And how many shows have you been to?”

“Uh,” Bonnibel rolled her eyes up in thought, missing Marceline’s gaze dropping to where she was anxiously chewing her bottom lip. “A lot. I try to go to two shows for every tour, and I’ve been to most of your special one time gigs and pop up events.”

Marceline tutted. “Now, see, it’s not that I don’t believe you, but you’re making it harder and harder for me to trust that you’re not a groupie. You’re even blushing like a caught school girl.” 

Bonnibel huffed, resorting back to sticking her bottom lip out just because being teased by an absolute goddess was completely unfair. “I don’t know what else to tell you. I’m just… a dedicated fan, I guess.”

“There’s only one difference between a fan and a groupie, though,” Marceline said. The album was placed on the table behind her as she leaned forwards to stare at Bonnibel through smudged eyeliner and a tangled mass of hair. “Groupies wanna get fucked.”

Despite having heard the other woman swear countless times in interviews or on tour, hearing Marceline say __that __to __her __made Bonnibel’s insides go all funny. Almost like an electric current had jolted her stomach a few centimetres off kilter. It also set off a searing heat just below her digestive system, already proving Marceline to be just a tiny little bit correct.

Already blushing like a tomato, Bonnibel stammered for a reply, throat suddenly dry and thick at the same time. Marceline continued to watch on with a devilish smile, eyes a darker shade of green than what Bonnibel had ever seen. Eventually Bonnibel gave up babbling for a reply and instead averted her gaze away from the tall musician to the ground, desperately trying to figure out why on earth it sounded like Marceline was flirting with her.

Marceline took two steps forwards so that the tips of her shoes entered the top of Bonnibel’s peripherals. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, she crouched down in front of her and tilted her head to the side to stare at Bonnibel like an animal unsure of how to take down its pray. She sucked in her bottom lip, dragging her teeth along her glossy red lip before releasing it with a soft pop. “It’s okay if you do, cutie. I’m not gonna judge you for wanting to get fucked by your childhood idol.” The jolt of heat and electricity rekindled, burning brighter when Marceline leaned forward onto the tips of her toes. A hand reached out gingerly, carefully taking one side of Bonnibel’s jaw to tilt her gaze back upwards to stare Marceline in the eye. “I’m certainly not gonna make you.” She hummed, voice barely above a whisper. Bonnibel was hyper aware of Marceline’s hot breath hitting her lips, of the way Marceline’s fingers were gently pressed against her cheek, of how her leather clad thighs were straining under her weight, of the increasingly uncomfortable stretch of fabric between her own legs. It felt like eternity that Marceline was in front of her, eyes scanning every single inch of her face as if she were studying for an important test. When Marceline licked her lips and opened her mouth to finally say something else, she was interrupted by an insistent knocking at the door.

“Yes?” Marceline called, releasing Bonnibel’s jaw and standing back up. Bonnibel sucked in a deep breath, watching as Marceline began to grab her things from around the room.

“We need you out of here in five minutes, Abadeer.”

“Can do,” Marceline replied, drawing out the last syllable as she made sure she had grabbed everything from the room. Bonnibel stood from the seat slowly, legs almost buckling underneath the heat of her arousal, and made a sound of protest when Marceline swiped the album off the table before she could get to it. “I’ll give you this back if you answer my question, __Bonnie__.” Marceline wagered, adding a wink to the tail end of the sentence. “__Are __you a groupie?”

“N-No.” Bonnibel grouched as she made to take the album back.

Marceline dodged out of her grasp, spinning on her heel as she shouldered her duffel bag. She pressed her back against the door, grinning wildly as her hand landed on the door handle. “Do you wanna be?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter got way out of hand word count wise. the goal was similar to the last chapter (around 1.5k/2k) and ended up being 3.6k. enjoy ya big pervs :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> degradation and slight power/dynamic kink? but also praise and completely consensual.

“Do you wanna be?”

Bonnibel felt winded just from that question alone, never mind the previous teasing the tenacious musician had been practically murmuring into her mouth. Honestly, Bonnibel found it absolutely ridiculous that Marceline had managed to get her so worked up in such a short amount of time. But then again, this was Marceline Abadeer that was apparently seducing her, the same Marceline Abadeer that Bonnibel had been shamelessly getting off to for the past four years of her life. Even when she was sixteen, absolutely adamant that she was straight, she had found herself with her hand down the front of her pyjama shorts, pondering what would happen if Marceline had her way with her. Granted, she had been under age and regretfully dating a boy at the time, but Bonnibel had always had such a fascination with the musician’s long fingers, chiselled jawline and rock and roll attitude. So it was with very little resistance from her usually put together brain that she found herself nodding timidly, following Marceline out of the make up room.

Marceline led her out of the back entrance of the average size concert venue, keeping her head ducked down all the way to a little red beat up car all alone in the car park. Bonnibel held her breath as Marceline fiddled about with the keys, unlocking the car and opening the passenger door so that she could clamber inside.

“Bet you’ve never done this before,” Marceline muttered as she slid into the drivers seat and closed the door behind her. “Unless you actually are a groupie, then whoops I’ve been fooled.”

“Not a groupie,” Bonnibel retorted softly, trying desperately not to think too hard about the wet gathering between her thighs. Marceline started the engine and pulled out of the car park, heading towards a side of town Bonnibel had rarely gone to. “So no, I’ve never done this before. Whatever… this is.” She waved a hand between them.

“If you think I’m the type of person to leave a cutie like you all hot and bothered then prepared to be proven wrong,” Marceline said, hunching over the steering wheel with a passing glance at Bonnibel. “But please tell me if I’m reading this all wrong and you want to be left alone.”

Bonnibel flushed. “You’re not. Don’t worry.”

Marceline shot her another smirk. “Good, because _I’m _horny as fuck and I mean it when I say you’re cute.”

Bonnibel frowned and glanced down at her apparel. She was only in a skirt and band shirt, really, the thigh highs were embarrassingly travelling down to her knees and her converse were scuffed and sticky from the venue floor. “I should’ve dressed up.” She muttered.

Marceline arched a brow. “I dunno, Bonnie, what you’re wearing is enough for me. Plus, you’re just cute anyway.” Bonnibel opened her mouth to retort, but found that Marceline was pulling into another car park and was turning off the engine by the time she realised they were at a hotel. The timing made sense; bands would stay in hotels close by to the venue they were playing at so they wouldn’t be late or stuck in traffic.

The walk into the reception was thankfully free of paparazzi and rabid fans. Well… Bonnibel __was __there just to potentially have sex with the famous musician, but she certainly wasn’t rabid. Marceline led her to the elevators, jabbing the button with her thumb and wrapping her hand around Bonnibel’s wrist to keep her close. As soon as the doors opened Bonnibel found herself being herded inside by Marceline, who pressed the floor number several times cursing under her breath. And then the doors closed and Bonnibel’s back was pressed against Marceline’s chest, wrist let go in favour of fingers skirting underneath the hem of her shirt. The simple touch made her flinch into the touch, stomach curling inwards as she gasped inwardly and slipped her eyes shut to remind herself that they were only in the elevator.

“Steady, cutie,” Marceline chuckled into her ear, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to Bonnibel’s temple as they stepped out into a corridor not a minute later. “Y’know I’ve never brought a fan back to my room before.” She muttered as they walked down to where Bonnibel assumed Marceline’s hotel room was.

“So that rumour that you slept with a fan last year wasn’t true?” Bonnibel asked, genuinely curious amid her predicament. When Marceline stopped outside of Room 108 and shook her head Bonnibel felt weirdly relieved. “Good.” She huffed. “I was trying desperately to tell everyone that you hadn’t and no one would believe me.”

Marceline rolled her eyes, unlocked the door, and gently pushed the younger girl inside before closing it again. Bonnibel barely had time to process how nice the lamp lit room was before Marceline was pressing her between her and the door to what Bonnibel presumed was the bathroom. “Maybe you were jealous,” She teased, letting her bag fall off her shoulder onto the ground. “Many people have flocked to me backstage in hopes that they get to bed me. And anyways, I said I’ve never brought a fan to my room. Didn’t say I’ve never fucked a groupie like you before.” And she added a wink just because she knew that Bonnibel was putty in her hands.

“Do you have to tease me?” Bonnibel pouted, hoping that Marceline would do something soon about the growing heat between her legs.

“Maybe that’s my style,” Marceline hummed quietly. Bonnibel swallowed harshly when Marceline brought her arm up to the side of her face, leaning in ever so closer. “Maybe I like teasing little girls that come into my dressing room hoping to get fucked by their idol.” She clucked her tongue when Bonnibel blushed for what felt like the tenth time that night, pressing herself further against the door despite wanting nothing more than for Marceline to completely ravage her then and there against the wall. “Maybe… Maybe I want to have you begging for me on your knees,” She muttered softer still, voice a whisper in Bonnibel’s ear. Her eyes were intent with capturing every inch of Bonnibel’s face, lips, chest and then lips again. “Tell me what you want from me, Bonnie.”

Bonnibel’s legs buckled under her weight and she was suddenly thankful that Marceline had pressed herself so close. She should’ve been at home by now, laying in bed with a hand between her thighs thinking of this exact scenario. “I want you to fuck me,” She groaned, letting her head fall back so that she could half glare half pout at the singer.

Marceline’s mouth curled into another sly smile, idly toying with strands of Bonnibel’s hair around her finger. “You must be desperate, huh? Watched me on the stage all night, picturing me fucking you for however many years,” Marceline ghosted her lips against the shell of Bonnibel’s ear, tongue tracing searing lines against her now hyper sensitive skin. “I bet… I bet you’re dripping for me aren’t you? Just a little slutty groupie hoping I shut up and wreck you.” Bonnibel gasped when Marceline’s hand returned to the slither of skin between her skirt and her shirt, fingers splaying across bare skin. “Unfortunately for you, I like to take things slow…” Marceline hummed and trailed a slew of kisses down from Bonnibel’s ear to her jaw, hovering over her lips for a good few seconds as her hand smoothed over the flat expanse of Bonnibel’s stomach. “Watching as the other person gets so worked up they’re begging me to fuck them,” Her head ducked down, lips skirting over Bonnibel’s jugular before she sucked skin between teeth. Bonnibel moan loudly at the sudden touch, head knocking against the wall a little harder than expected, hands coming to grasp the silk shirt Marceline had been wearing all night. “How desperately do you want me inside you, huh?” Marceline drawled into the crook of Bonnibel’s neck.

Bonnibel squeezed her eyes shut tight, counting to ten as Marceline’s hand reached around behind her to unhook her damn bra, hissing when she decided to drag nails down her back and bite down on her shoulder __hard__. She hadn’t even realised how needy she was until Marceline’s other hand reached under her skirt, fingers splaying around her thigh and hooking her leg behind one of her own, trailing that same hand all the way up to her probably soaked underwear. “How much do you want __these __off?” Marceline spoke into Bonnibel’s jaw, hooking a finger around the fabric and pulling at it weakly. Bonnibel nodded frantically, too overwhelmed to even begin to think about speaking, and groaned when Marceline let the elastic snap back against her thigh. “Too bad, baby.”

Slowly, almost like a predator sizing up it’s prey, Marceline backed away further into the room, leaving Bonnibel breathless and limp against the door. She arched a brow as she reached to where the oversized bed was, eyes scanning every inch of Bonnibel once more before she let her head fall to one side. “C’mere,” She lulled, taking a seat on the end of the bed. “Tell me you want it, please?” The innocent tone of her voice was completely betrayed by the fire in her eyes and her hand trailing down her own abdomen, absentmindedly fiddling with one of the buttons on her too expensive shirt before dropping limply to her side. Bonnibel weakly pushed herself up and away from the door and weakly stumbled towards the bed, allowing herself to be gently pulled into Marceline’s arms the second she was in reach.

“I really, really want this,” Bonnibel murmured, bringing her hands up to fiddle with Marceline’s collar. She felt a little stupid, sitting on a celebrities lap, basically begging to be fucked, but then again Bonnibel really _did _want this. She wanted Marceline to do whatever she wanted, completely cut loose and use her as some depraved toy. “Please, _please, please_ fuck me,” Bonnibel leaned forwards ever so slightly, hands balling up in the silk, and pulled Marceline closer.

“I love how much of a needy slut you already are,” Marceline moaned. Each and every breath she took hit Bonnibel’s already dry lips, driving her insane to the point where she almost leaned forward and kissed her. Almost, but not quite. Marceline had the power here. Marceline could start whatever she wanted. “Wouldn’t you agree?” She asked in a drawl. Bonnibel could only bob her head yes once, too focussed on her parted thighs and Marceline’s hands on her waist. Marceline smirked and chuckled quietly, to the point where Bonnibel felt it before she even heard it. Marceline tipped her head forward, lips now grazing Bonnibel’s as she uttered, “Good girl,” into her mouth. “You can kiss me now.”

And Bonnibel did, moaning immediately and capturing Marceline’s bottom lip between her teeth. The hands at her waist shifted to the tops of her thighs as Marceline groaned and bit back with more forcefulness, only gentle when Bonnibel whimpered or gasped too loudly. Hands had somehow found their way into a tangled mess of hair, and then she was gasping and moaning and _rocking _against Marceline’s lap as the musician’s hands continued traversing her thighs and hips, eventually sliding back up her skirt to hook comfortably in the elastic waist of her underwear once more.

“You’re a bad little groupie, huh?” Marceline moaned into Bonnibel’s mouth, all breath and heat. “Usually they’d have taken their shirts off by now.” The elastic was stretched and snapped back against Bonnibel’s thighs, eliciting a muffled whine from behind her swollen lips as Marceline’s hands busied themselves with tugging at the hem of her band shirt.

“Don’t stretch it,” Was probably the most ridiculous thing anyone had ever said during sex… or foreplay, or whatever stage they were at. In her defence, though, she’d spent a lot of money on getting official merch and wasn’t going to let it get stretched or ripped just because she was horny. Maybe her priorities were all wrong.

Marceline stopped to smile mid kiss and pulled away enough to get the shirt up and over Bonnibel’s head, throwing it somewhere behind Bonnibel in the dimly lit room. Then her lips were on hers again and palms and nails were exploring the new territory, counting up freckled ribs and skirting under Bonnibel’s bra to rake down her back. Bonnibel could only groan and arch into the touches, lips growing numb as Marceline bit and licked and sucked as much as she could. Sensing this, Marceline decided to move her assault to her neck, leaving a hot wet trail down her chin and jaw, smirking mid bite when Bonnibel moaned particularly loudly into the empty room when she left what was probably a very dark mark on her throat.

Bonnibel wasn’t really expecting her bra to be unhooked so easily. Then again, this was _Marceline Abadeer _and she had magic fingers. Well, according to most music critics. And fanfic authors. It was a little anticlimactic when all Marceline did was tear the offending piece of cloth away and continue her neck sucking until those awfully agile and nimble fingers found their way to the peaks of her heaving breasts, rolling a nipple under her thumb with one hand while she gently squeezed and played with the other. The new stimulus was enough to bring back Bonnibel’s attention to the growing wet between her legs, pressing against Marceline’s thighs, throbbing for attention from anything.

“_Please_,” She found herself groaning. “_Please _just use me.”

Marceline grinned into the crook of Bonnibel’s throat, teeth grazing her skin and collarbone. “Maybe I’ll go extra slow, just to be a bitch,” She hummed in thought. “Maybe I’ll just get myself off and have you watch.” Bonnibel choked back a sob despite the roaring flame that sparked in her stomach and leaned forwards to kiss Marceline breathlessly once more, pleading and begging against her lips. “You really _are _desperate, aren’t you?” She mumbled, releasing Bonnibel’s chest to drop her hands back down to the area of leg separated by skirt and thigh high. “But what I wanna know,” Bonnibel was fully aware she was practically quaking from arousal on top of Marceline, already knew that her thighs were trembling, could tell that Marceline knew how much she wanted it. It didn’t stop her from uttering out another ‘please’ when Marceline’s fingers skirted up her inner thigh, dangerously close to the slick wet that had coated her skin the majority of their escapade. “Just how much exactly you want me.” Marceline paused and had the audacity to tap a finger against Bonnibel’s skin as she thought about her next sentence. “In fact,” She started slowly, hand inching closer to the spot where Bonnibel needed it the absolute most. “I don’t just wanna __know__.” The tip of her finger ran down the soaking cloth that covered Bonnibel’s clit, applying just enough pressure to make Bonnibel keel against her shoulder and gasp in response, but not nearly enough to help her out in anyway. And then it was gone all together. Reaching up to hold Bonnibel’s face gently with the same hand, Marceline angled her so they were just centimetres apart once more. “I want to taste it.” Marceline concluded, eyes so dark that in the low light Bonnibel could’ve sworn they were a pitch black.

Bonnibel opened her mouth to agree, or beg again, or simply say thank you, but all she could manage was another moan from the back of her throat. Marceline smiled gently, pressing another kiss to her mouth before she hooked her hands under her legs and switched their positions. There was something oddly pleasing about seeing Marceline on her knees, eyes looking up into hers with a tiny bit of concern hidden behind the thrill of what was transpiring between them both. In a moment of bravery Bonnibel spread her legs open just a tiny bit more, trying to tell Marceline to just get on with it already because she was stupidly horny now and it was getting a bit out of hand. Marceline pressed a kiss to the sliver of skin just above her thigh high before trailing the tip of her nose painfully slowly towards Bonnibel’s throbbing heat, occasionally leaving a kiss or a bite, or sucking at a bit of skin here and licking a bit of skin there. It felt like __hours __until Marceline’s sucking targeted the very most inner part of her leg. Bonnibel was embarrassingly aware that Marceline’s cheek had grazed her soaking underwear, but didn’t even get a chance to dwell on that fact before a tongue delicately stroked the front of the fabric. Bonnibel’s legs clamped closed, nearly crushing Marceline with the force of her reaction.

“C’mon now,” Marceline purred, gently biting just above the knee. “Just lay down like a good little whore for me, okay? I’ll make it worth it for you.”

“You already have,” Bonnibel retorted weakly, obeying Marceline and settling herself down onto the soft mattress. “Thank you.”

Marceline chuckled as she gently knocked Bonnibel’s knees apart, hiking one leg over a shoulder and then the other to prevent Bonnibel from nearly crushing her again. “I haven’t even started yet,” She mumbled into soft skin. “No need to thank me, anyway. Thank __you __for being rad and not thinking I’m a massive creep.”

Bonnibel almost jokingly said that she was a creep, but Marceline had already dove forward to run the flat of her tongue against her clothed clit once more, only this time there was teeth skimming swollen and sensitive skin, and Marceline closed her mouth around that one spot and _oh_.

Bonnibel was moaning again, hands flailing to find a good hold before re-tangling in Marceline’s hair, not caring if she was probably waking up other residents in the hotel. The way Marceline eased aside Bonnibel’s underwear to effortlessly push two fingers in to the first knuckle was downright sinful. The very simple action, something Bonnibel had done herself and had imagined Marceline doing so many times before made her sob and grip and _pull _at Marceline’s hair. Then Marceline pushed aside the piece of fabric entirely and Bonnibel was met with flesh against flesh, tongue lapping at the mess she had already made, fingers sliding in to the second, then third knuckle without any resistance.

“You taste good,” Marceline muttered hoarsely as she curled her digits up, thumb attending to where her tongue no longer was. There was another shift of weight as Marceline slid up off the floor to kneel over Bonnibel, leaning down to kiss her when she was sure she wouldn’t lose balance and fall.

It was embarrassing when all it took from Marceline was a few thrusts from tip to hilt, but Bonnibel rode it out like some sort of bad dream, clenching and thrashing and sweating on the bed as Marceline shushed her and pressed kisses wherever she could.

Coming down from her high Bonnibel was aware of a few things. For starters, the aching of her body deemed she was bound to be incredibly sore in the morning. Another was that Marceline was removing her shoes, and ruined underwear, and the rest of her clothes. And then- “I need to get you off.”

Marceline glanced up at her in the midst of reaching for the long forgotten band shirt that had been strewn across the floor and blinked, seemingly perplexed by the very idea. Then she shrugged, putting all of Bonnibel’s clothes onto the dresser, before stripping out of her own clothes. “I’ll be fine.” Was her response, a cheeky grin on her face when she noticed Bonnibel downright ogling at her bare chest. “And besides, I have a big shower. I’m sure you can make it up to me in the morning.”


End file.
